


Jacarandá

by SparkyLulu



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Character Study, Fluff, Gen, Implied romantic interest between the reader and an unnamed character, So you can imagine whoever you prefer :), a bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 10:19:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18938962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkyLulu/pseuds/SparkyLulu
Summary: Jacarandámeans“scented”in Guaraní language. It is believed that Jacarandá flowers are a symbol of unity among different beings because it blooms both in Autumn and Spring, and that they purify the bad feelings away.





	Jacarandá

**Author's Note:**

> I had the urge to write a cute scene about _Uncle Drippy_ (or Papa Emeritus I if you will) and this is what happened C: It's far from my best writing but I haven't written in so long that I'm just glad I could get to do this. Hope you enjoy it!

I sat beneath the great Jacarandá tree, further to the East side of the gardens. Beneath its shelter, I could appreciate the appearance of the first of the countless purple blossoms that would cover the tree as Spring passed. I averted my gaze from the tree to look up at the sunset, the beauty of it marveling me but also making me nostalgic for things I didn’t know whether they would ever come. The first stars appeared and I could hear the echo of words long-ago spoken by Vincent Van Gogh. I sighed - even if the stars could make a man dream, dreams were but a poetic way to escape the harshness of reality.

I wasn’t hiding. I just didn’t feel like dealing with the chit-chat of the common rooms or the hassle of the busier parts of the Church. I wasn’t in the mood to fake smiles or exchange polite words, I just wanted… Was wanting  _ something _ a valid answer?

The orange-tinted sky faded into pinks and purples that turned bluer and darker by the minute. I had always liked those cooler shades… and now they too reminded me of  _ him. _

I sighed again, not wanting my thoughts to wander  _ there.  _ At the moment,  _ he _ posed too many questions for which I had no answers.

“What troubles you, child?”

The sudden interruption startled me which, in turn, ended with me hitting the back of my head to the tree trunk I had been resting on. I had always been a bit (well, _ a lot) _ of a scaredy cat and I was used to these things happening. Still, it didn’t amuse me to know I’d probably have a bump in my head for a short while. I looked up to see Papa Emeritus I, gazing down at me with a concerned expression.

“I am sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Are you alright?” He asked me. It warmed my heart to know he cared because I had always seen him as a distant type.

Still, it was a trick question indeed. It took me a moment before I nodded. “Yes, Papa, it’s a small bump - I’m sure it’ll be gone in no time”, I reassured him.

He nodded and followed my gaze back to the sky. “You know”, he started, “there was once a man who, like many others, lived a short and tumultuous life but it wasn’t until his death that he was given the recognition he deserved. That man appeared to show as much interest in the sky as you do now, child. It is believed he once said  _ ‘I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.’  _ What do you dream of, child?”

A thing that had always been said about the first Emeritus was that he was always one to observe. People sometimes felt he had the power to read their minds because he paid  _ that _ much attention to every detail - probably the reason why he was so respected within the Clergy. Thus, I knew better than to question him how had he known I had been pondering Van Gogh’s words, or to play coy and pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about. Instead, I chose my words carefully in order to honor his concern.

“I dream of things I fear I will never have, Papa, either because they are too precious or because I am unworthy of them. My longing weights on my heart because I am but a silent watcher and, in order to make dreams a reality, you have to act… Something which I do not.”

Hearing the words come out from my mouth was both a relief and a curse. Part of me felt lighter, like admitting my concerns would help me deal with them. However, another part felt heavier and sadder at the reality - things would never change if I didn’t make the changes happen but I didn’t know if I had the strength and the courage within me to do so.

Silence echoed between us but, somehow, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as I thought it would be.

Eventually, his baritone voice broke it. “Sometimes, my child, the answer is in front of us but we are unable to see it until the right circumstances are met.” He spoke slowly, allowing each word breath and exist on its own without breaking the coherence of speech. “Just like the stars. Maybe, all that you need is for the right light to be cast upon you… Or upon  _ him.” _

He smiled softly at me as I stared back perplexed before walking away.

I didn’t question how he knew. He wouldn’t have answered me anyway.

The tree’s leaves rustled, shaken by a timid breeze, and its early violet Spring blossoms danced in the air. One of them found its way to my hands as if the tree had tried to show me the beauty that had been concealed by the foliage until then. 

I picked it up, examining it for the first time. An idea came to mind. It was probably foolish. Childish even. Yet, somehow it seemed appropriate.

I scrambled myself up and hastily made my way to catch the first Emeritus.

“Papa!”

He turned around and, yet again, it appeared he had been expecting me.

“Thank you.” I handed him the flower and, for the first time, I saw a look of surprise cross his features. His parchment hands grabbed the delicate jacarandá flower. 

A true smile met his features and I knew he knew what it meant. “No, thank  _ you, _ child.”


End file.
